Funny Supernatural Sayings Novels & Stories

"What if I accidentally nicked a vein, or sliced my head off." "Well. That will be a welcoming bonus." "Haha, hilarious! I am dying from all this excellent humor, you little-" I grunted and grimaced when I heard a screeching noise. "Nothing about me is little." "Your brain is... And what the heck is that sound?" "Have you ever met a spirit? From the realm of dead?" "No." I shook my head as my eyes fell on the shrieking creature as it circled over the trees. Long bony arms fell out of bags of skins.

she said. “What power is that?” Danny asked leaning closer. “You know when a puppeteer controls his puppets, just like that story?” Danny hummed. “Well I can control people like a puppeteer” she replied and her finger tips glowed gold. “You’re supernatural so you can see the strings. A human won’t be able to see it” she said. “Can you fly?” Danny asked. “No, but I can fall” she replied. “Oh” she said blinking confused. “Falling is better than flying” she replied.

It was another case for the ages, a supernatural entity or something like that. Another kid emerged from the closet, Pullman gasped. It was the real Spencer. The fear was present in his eyes as he crawled over to him. The noises grew louder. Pullman stood up then ran to the window. They were on the second floor but it didn’t matter. He’d rather jump to his death or break a leg than die by something not of this world. “Now do you believe Dr. Freyman? I told him there was something here that looked just like me,” Spencer whispered.

The Queen had lied to me. A second confirmation of this didn't sit well with me. "What do you think they were doing?" I asked. He gave me that look again, as though measuring how much truth to give. Then, with a shrug, said, "Harvesting. Drawing energy from the soil. Every soul that died here was supernatural—witches, wolves. That makes their essence volatile. Whoever's doing this is keeping the souls from passing into the afterlife." His eyes lifted to the horizon. "It's cruel, and dangerous. That kind of energy… festers."

Just another day in the supernatural community. Just another day in paradise.

“They say dusk is the witching hour—a supernatural time when demons and spirits hidden in the dark emerge. Some take human form, others possess people and walk among us. They might suddenly call your name, and if you answer… your soul gets devoured.” His deep, mellow voice, rich like liqueur-filled chocolate, drifted with the evening breeze, wrapping the tale in a mysterious, magical charm. Candice paused for three seconds, then gasped dramatically, “How scary~~~” “No need to be afraid, just a legend. I thought it was interesting, so I told it.” “It is interesting. But—does it only work if they call your name? What if, say, a kid calls out ‘Mom’? If the mom answers, does that count?”

When I turned back around, I noticed a new note pinned to the table. It was the same familiar handwriting, but the strokes seemed to carry a hint of chill this time. "Squanderer." I froze, then started laughing out loud. So this ghost couldn't just cook—she was also a thrifty, budget-conscious woman. I liked that. I immediately grabbed a pen and wrote back, "Sorry, Ivy. I was just joking. From now on, let's stick to regular dishes. I won't bring up such ridiculous things anymore." I made sure to apologize sincerely.

In an instant, she turned as pale as a ghost. "Where on earth did you hear such disgusting garbage from?!" My mother screamed, panic rising in her voice as she rushed toward my little brother.

I sarcastically questioned my aunt. Aunt said, “Maybe in Lucifer’s child,” and I winced. To be honest, I don't like what I’m seeing, and I’m not going to take what aunt said seriously, but it appears to be true. When I got down, the monster I was riding vanished, as did Aunt. Haiden quickly changed his appearance, and they moved beside us to gaze at each other, which is when I noticed their shocked expressions. “Satan exists in your world,” Joy explained.

So this isn't his first rodeo. "I think I'm an alright person. It depends on who you ask, though." I give him a little wink, and he laughs, "How many of these have you been to?" "This is my sixteenth time attending." Wow. I don't know why I expected a lower number. "So, you've met quite a few humans then, huh? I've never met a supernatural." He cringes. "We do not like being called *supernaturals*. We prefer being called *mystical*. Supernatural suggests we are abnormal, and it desensitizes us. We are just as natural as mortal beings." I feel embarrassed.